Kindred
by Wanagi Moon
Summary: There is a balance in life between love, pleasure, happiness, and sorrow. Serena/Stanton.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Daughters Of The Moon_.

* * *

"You cannot love without knowing pleasure, have sorrow without knowing happiness. You need to know all of them to know one."

* * *

_i. love_

It is summer, and the air is dry and the nights are hot.

Stanton meets her a block away from Planet Bang. He is positioned beneath a tree outside of a vacated liquor store; his shoulders are slouched, hands buried in his pockets, but upon meeting her gaze as she rounds the corner, he straightens his spine and wiggles out his hands. The deep blue of his eyes glistens with excitement. A warm smile graces her face; pink stretches across her cheeks when his fingers lace through hers, tenderly, and all too familiar. "I thought you wouldn't come," he says, planting a soft kiss on her temple.

Serena's smile broadens into a grin. "You were nervous?" He rolls his shoulders into a shrug, and she can't help but chuckle lightly. "Sorry. Jimena wouldn't buy my excuses, so I had to play with her mind a bit."

"Very bad of you." He smirks at her, and it's his signature by now yet she nearly melts. His smile deepens, and his arms wrap around her small waist, fingers dipping into the base of her back. Electricity laces through her veins, and her blood is like flames licking at her insides. _I missed you_, he says, and she shivers as a slither of ice envelops her body.

She always blushes when they kiss, or touch, or even cross paths, and yet the heat is as smoldering as it was the first time.

* * *

_ii. happiness_

It is autumn, and everything smells of apple cinnamon and pumpkins.

Serena feels as if she has come home for the first time, and the warm sensation settles in her soul—as if it has always belonged there. Although Bella notes she is seemingly distracted with her cello, the emotion itself has found a spirit that is entirely Serena's. "Every artist has a style that is their own," she explained while Serena's hand swept the bow gently back and forth across the strings, "and I think we've found yours. It's sweet and vulnerable, but also strong. Like iron."

She and Stanton are perched atop a cliff overlooking the ocean; waves collide with jagged rocks, and a cool breeze caresses their skin. It's sundown, and the horizon is painted in vibrant oranges, purples, and pinks. Her knees are tucked inward, and she twiddles her fingers while desperately attempting to ignore the friction in the small space between them.

"Have you ever been with a Daughter?" she abruptly asks, interrupting the serenity of the moment, and wants to die right then and there. However, he merely laughs heartily.

"No, not like _this_. Not romantically."

She tilts her head, willing the tomato red blush smeared across her cheeks to simmer down a bit. "Not even Vanessa?"

"Vanessa is a good person. A _great_ person." She nods, casting him a small smile. It is true, after all. Her soul vibrates a frequency brighter than anybody could ever imagine. "But so are Jimena and Catty. And Maggie..."

"You know Maggie?" Her eyes widen, and she stares intensely at him. "Like, _know_ her?"

He shakes his head, eyes still trained on the sunset. "No. I've seen her. Maybe passed by a few times. Most Followers would never admit this, but it's true: we admire her. We can't _not_. She's majestic. She's more than goddess or human. She's something strange, and for us that's _kind_ of a big deal." He lowers his gaze to the ground, and adds, "Great people aren't hard to come by. Strange people, however... That's a different story. Vanessa is strange, and so are you, and Catty's something else.

"When you've lived as long as I have and _seen_ as much as I have, it's difficult to be surprised. When Vanessa tried to save me, I was shocked. I wanted to learn more, because if there was something off about her, I thought it would be all of you, too. And I was right. You four feel different, and I don't know why. Not yet, at least."

Serena, lips parted slightly, leans closer to him. "What do you mean?"

"You're telepathic. We haven't had a telepathic goddess before. And there's a darkness to you as well. It drew me in. You're very dark, and not ashamed of it. You embrace it... Even though you don't know you do."

She exhales slowly, wondering how to properly articulate the thoughts scattered messily across her mind, and says, "But I thought opposites attract—?"

"What are we, _five_?" His lips curve into a crooked smile, and he finally inclines his head in her direction. Once more the tenderness of his expression overwhelms her; confuses and disorientates her. "It's not about light and dark. Balance doesn't always mean combining polarizing forces. I don't think, at least. That's not what this feels like."

"_This_?" She leans away from him, eyebrows furrowed.

Stanton clasps her hand in his hand, tugging her toward him, and kisses her mouth. She's all too welcoming to his embrace, to how his arms wind around her. Everything about their contact is ancient, as if they've collided in this world before; two rogue stars imploding beside one another, creating a universe of their own.

* * *

_iii. sorrow_

It is winter, and a sharp, icy chill blankets the City of Los Angeles.

Exhaling slowly, Serena stares out the window, too scared to even _peek_ at the clock from the corner of her eye. Class may have started just five minutes ago, yet it feels as if the span of time has stretched across the breadth of infinity. Boredom leaks into her brain, and the monotony in Mr. Baxter's tone drills a headache into her skull. Vanessa should have joined her in class, and they could have passed notes—well, if Serena coaxed her overly-strict friend to, that is—but the beautiful blonde had missed school due to catching the flu. _I wonder how pretty she looks even with a stuffy nose_, the telepath muses, but is distracted by the wisps of black smoke flitting around the corner of the adjacent building.

_Followers_. Cursing underneath her breath, Serena raises her hand, poised to vacate her seat, to which Mr. Baxter mindlessly gestures to the pass without stopping his lecture. (After an episode with Morgan involving the phrase, "I'm bleeding out of my vagina, just let me go," the teacher had taken to dismissing female students without questioning their reason.) She hurries across the room, grabbing the pass before darting out the door.

_I can't stand when they hover around here_. Her steps are loud as she lightly jogs down the corridor. Briefly she considers taking a detour and snagging Jimena – who is in the science building – but decides against when her moon amulet shimmers against her chest. _It's probably some lowly Follower_, she contemplates, rounding the corner into the corridor she had witnessed the shadow take. _They always try to pick off freshmen girls. _

The tail-end of the shadow slips underneath the bathroom door, and Serena hastily whips it open. A low groan escapes her throat before she can contain it, and with the door falling shut behind her, she presses her back against it to prevent entry and seethes, "What are you doing here? Again?"

"I came to see you," Stanton answers sheepishly. "I—"

"We broke up." She folds her arms across her chest, and her scowl deepens when she realizes the layers upon layers of heat devouring her skin. "_I_ broke up with you. There are boundaries now."

He frowns, and much to her chagrin, she finds herself drawn to the somberness of his disposition. His eyes are swollen, as if he had awoken from a restless sleep just minutes prior, and the disheveled state of his blonde hair further solidifies the theory. "Look," he explains, raising his hands, palms facing her, as if to surrender. "I had a bad feeling you were in danger, or hurt, or—"

"No," she snaps, shaking her head, "I think you had a nightmare and didn't think about what you were doing when you came here. Please. Just go." Swallowing the lump in her throat, she urges herself not to cry, repeating the mantra in her head. _Don't cry, don't cry._

Stanton rings his fingers through his hair. "I know it was a nightmare. But it's also intuition." A peculiar smile forms on his face. "Who's Jerome?"

"I—What?" Her patience is dwindling. Now he's rifling through her thoughts? "He's a guy who goes here who has a crush on me and won't leave me alone. Sounds familiar, right?"

He ignores the sarcastic remark. "Do you want me to send him a message? And I wasn't in her head. You're really mad about whatever he did."

"We broke up," she repeats, dismissing his comments, "and you're being creepy."

"It's creepy to want to make sure you're safe? Something isn't right in the air. I feel it."

Serena grits her teeth. Exasperated, she answers, "No, it's creepy to ignore the boundaries I set up so you could see me. It's _over_." The knot in her throat becomes heavier; numbness swallows her chest. _Is it over? _It feels too final. "I'm fine here. I'm safe. Now go."

"I—"

"Please," she intervenes in a curt tone, heartbeat thudding loudly in her ears, it's all she can hear. "Leave. I'll be okay."

The school bell shrinks, signaling the end of the day, and she merely starts to tap her foot while eying him expectantly. Without so much as a further glance, he melds into the shadows, and then whips past her. She can't hear herself think; she can no longer feel the drumming of her own heart rattling against her ribs. _I don't want to feel_, she thinks, hot tears brimming in her eyes, before quietly exiting the bathroom.

* * *

_v. pleasure_

It is spring, and the jacaranda trees scatter purple flowers across the sidewalk.

Serena's bed is cozier than usual, but she can't manage a moment to enjoy it. A bruise accompanies her jaw. It throbs painfully, and she flinches every time it blazes more sharply than normal. Stanton, sitting beside her, caresses her back.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help," he says, remorse deepening his voice, "I didn't even know where you were the first few days."

"It's okay," she sighs, combing her fingers through her wet, tangled curls, "I'm back now. Nefandus is weird. I just feel so bad for Catty. I mean... Chris."

He nods, and then moves closer, his lips hovering over her neck. "At least you're all safe." Goosebumps pepper her arms; the hairs on her neck stand still. "I'm happy you're back."

Serena, attempting to ignore the waves of warmth crashing over her, clears her throat before meekly saying, "There were things I was thinking about there... I've been thinking about them for awhile now, but I think I have an answer now." _Oh God, kill me. _

"What is it?" He kisses her neck then, very tenderly, and she bites her bottom lip in a meager attempt to prevent herself from gasping.

_He knows. _"I'm ready."

His mouth presses hard against hers then, and it's not at all a surprise to her. She knows how eager he has become since they reconciled months ago; how passionate he is about her and how much self-control he employs in her presence. They're two paper hears on fire, the embers colliding and the smoke intertwining, and regardless of the seasons which have passed between them, they remain kindred spirits. Love does not seek polarizing forces to unite harmony, but to strengthen already bonded souls.


End file.
